


All that mattered

by TheLSpacer



Category: Paul shapera - Fandom, Shaperaverse
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Also featuring Matt the theatre boyfriend (rest in peace), Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lloyd has traumaaaaaaa, M/M, Shaperaverse - Freeform, also mentions of the death cult that ruined Lloyd's life if anyone's not a fan of that, and mentions of past blood and some violence, but it's all okay in the end!!!, ok the tagging system for this fandom is wackkk someone help pls, raven is gonna be dishing out alll the comfort in this one so stay tuned, slight nsfw btw (just a brief mention of an nsfw term toward the end)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24535879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLSpacer/pseuds/TheLSpacer
Summary: Lloyd had always been reticent about his past before coming to the August Sky Playhouse. It takes a narrative jump gone wrong, and a worrying amount of alcohol, for some of it to resurface.
Relationships: Lloyd Allen/David 'Uncle Raven' Adams (Shaperaverse), Lloyd Allen/Raven (The Ballad of Lost Hollow)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	All that mattered

**Author's Note:**

> Yolo cheeriodels!! This is my first New Albion fic! Also it's my first fic in a veeerry long time haha. I'm pretty new to the fandom so please be nice TwT
> 
> EDIT: Upon relistening to the podcast, I realised a number of details of this story deviates from canon events, so sorry in advance if it rubs you the wrong way. But you know what? All that's fake! This is my canon now! Is this what it's like to be a Posthuman??? Maybe so!
> 
> Anyways, as mentioned in the tags, content warning for aftermath of alcohol abuse, mentions of cults and past trauma involving stalking and violence (what can I say Lloyd really went thru it). Take care of yourself, and I hope you enjoy the story!

“You,” Raven declared, “are drunk.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” came Lloyd’s snappish reply, slightly slurred from the five (or was it six? Seven? At some point he had decided he no longer cared to count) glasses of vodka he had drained, glasses that were currently scattered across the living room table in the small apartment above the Playhouse him and Raven shared. 

Raven decided not to ask Lloyd who the hell this ‘Sherlock’ was and what exactly he had to do with the conversation. Instead, he lowered his feet from where he had propped them up on the table, and said, “Listen. You know I enjoy the occasional drop -don’t look at me like that- drop of scotch, but even I have to admit this is a little much, especially for you.”

“Are you suggesting I’m a lightweight? I’m perfectly capable of holding my alcohol, thank you very much.” To prove his point, Lloyd poured himself another glass with hands that trembled only slightly, and drained it in two impressive gulps. He was about to go for a seventh (eighth?) when he felt his boyfriend’s hand close over his. 

“This is about what happened in the afternoon isn’t it.” Raven knew better than to phrase the statement as a question. “The narrative we left, the one with the batshit-insane cultists.” 

As if on cue, Lloyd’s head began to pound, and he felt the beginnings of a truly epic headache. 

Extricating his grip from Raven’s, he dug the heels of his hands into his temples, muttering nto his empty glass, “I was a fool to think the only narrative with that particular band of imbeciles was the one I had originally come from.”

It was all Raven could do not to leap forward and bombard his boyfriend with questions. Even after they had started dating, Lloyd had been... reticent, about details of his past and life before the August Sky Playhouse. Questions of where he had learned to fence, or how he had gotten so damned good at chess, were often met with a shrug and an _“oh, here and there, you know how it is.”_

He wanted to ignore the little voice in his head that told him to _press, press, press, who knows when you’ll have a chance like this again?_ He really did. But at his core, he was quintessentially David Adams (as much as that meant now), the man who had leapt off the edge of a cliff, in part to see just what would happen next. 

In fact, that little voice was sounding rather suspiciously like him, as it went _say something, idiot. You‘ve been quiet too long and he’s noticing._

Well, Raven wasn’t sure if that much was true. He snapped out of his little fugue to a Lloyd slumped over, his forehead pressed against the cool glass tabletop.

…and that rather pathetic sight was just enough to quash whatever curiousity Raven had previously felt.

Voicing a mental _screw you_ to one David Adams, he stood up and walked over, loosening the collar of Lloyd’s shirt and attempting to lift him out of his seat. 

“Alright darling, as fascinating a tale as that must have been, it’s probably not a story you should be telling while three sheets to the wind - _Jesus you’re heavy._ ”

Through his pounding head and swimming vision, Lloyd had enough presence of mind to murmur something about height and muscle mass. He felt himself being pulled upright and walked down the hall.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hear about it now? It’s quite a story, I assure you, especially once I tell you about what exactly I did to them.”

“Them being the imbecile cultists.”

“Mm hmm.” They entered the bedroom, Raven letting Lloyd teeter the last few steps to their bed as he left the room.

Lloyd barely noticed his partner’s absence as his false bravado slipped away. In between the sharp pulses of pain lancing through his head at irregular intervals and cold sweat running down his back, his mind was reeling, memories of blood and panic and running so much running were slamming one by one to the forefront of his consciousness. Feebly, he attempted the tried-and-true tactic he had often employed in the past, whenever he would unintentionally brush up against a reminder of his flowering.

_Repress, repress, repress._

_Repress repress - the chill you felt running up your spine when you realised you were being followed. Glinting blades catching the weak light of the moon above you. Your blood and theirs running into the tiny dormitory sink as you scrub again and again the water pouring over your cuts and gashes. The box-_

A glass of water was pressed into his shaking hands.

“Drink.”

He knew Raven’s dark brown eyes were probably fixed upon him with concern, but he was unable to meet his gaze. He tipped the glass up to his lips and drank a small sip. And another. And then he was drinking so greedily water was running down the edge of his mouth and dripping from his chin but he didn’t-

_“Slow down will you? If you keep drinking like that you’re going to pass out!”_

_He was crouched on the floor of Matt’s room, wedged between the bed and the chest of drawers, out of sight of the room’s lone window, overlooking the street outside the school’s dormitory. A bottle of cheap whiskey, almost empty, was swiftly snatched away by his host. Lloyd wiped the vile stuff from his mouth and chin, and fought the urge to hyperventilate when he saw the back of his hand come away, alcohol mingling with smears of blood._

_They had finally come for him that night, as he was walking home after putting the last of the stage production’s props in storage. He had been acutely aware of the shuffling of multiple pairs of feet behind him for quite some time, but whenever he turned around to look, there was no one there. Though he tried to lose them, cutting through buildings and taking winding shortcuts, it was five robed figures who eventually cornered him in a dark alleyway just in sight of his dormitory._

_When they surrounded him, Lloyd allowed himself a brief moment of relief, relief that the paranoia he had let creep steadily into his life over the weeks was more than completely justified._

_Then he drew his blade._

_“That’s quite the point. You see, I have a rather nasty gash running down my leg from where those bastards got me, and I’m going to have to stitch it back together on my own. The alcohol.. helps. Thank you, by the way.”_

_“Don’t even mention it. You’re sure going to the nurse is out of the question?”_

_“They’ve been following me around for God knows how long, they most definitely know the first place I would go if I was injured. It’s best if I stay here, if… if you’ll have me.”_

_And Matt leaned over, all freckles and strawberry-blonde hair, and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Lloyd, you’ll always be welcome here, okay? You’re safe now.”_

_And just like that, Lloyd felt the weight from the past few weeks, the dread, anxiety, and all-out terror that came with being the target of a death cult, come crashing from his shoulders, and he clung to Matt like he was a lifeline, and cried._

\- he didn’t care that it was tears that were running down his face, now. He could feel his Ravey’s arms around him, his empty glass set carefully down on the bedside table. He hated feeling this way, hated feeling so scared and helpless. Whenever he got like this, the only thing he could do was hang on to someone else to keep him from falling, and such dependence never ended well. First his mother, then Matt, then…

He had simply decided, after seeing what they had done to Matt, that he would have to be the strong one. He would have to be the one people depended upon. Leader. MC. Stage manager.

But now here he was, breaking down and soaking the front of his boyfriend’s shirt as he buried his face in Raven’s chest.

Distantly, he could hear Raven’s voice, soft and low, humming and reassuring him.

_It’s okay. I got you, Take deep breaths, there’s a good boy._

Slowly, his sobs subsided, as exhaustion overtook. He wanted to tell Raven what had happened to him all those years ago, and that thought alone was like a breath of clean, fresh air, taken after being submerged underwater for far too long. _God_ , he wanted the man he loved most to know, so badly it burned in his chest.

Yet, he felt his eyelids begin to droop. Seeing this, Raven lowered him onto the bed and settled down beside him, pulling the covers over the both of them.

Lloyd reached out and took some of Raven’s dreadlocks between his fingers, playing idly with them. Raven gently took his hand, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, flashing the Cheshire grin that made Lloyd’s insides turn to mush every time he saw it.

“…You know, I never pegged you for a crying drunk. I bet the others would be quite interested in this little bit of information. Stuffy stage manager Lloyd Allen dissolving into a puddle after a drink or two.”

Lloyd couldn’t help but roll his eyes, smiling slightly. It was rather reassuring to know that even while assuming the role of ‘comforter, lover and protector’, his boyfriend was more than capable of being a complete and utter jackass. 

“Are you blackmailing me? Because I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of biting back. I’m sure Jill, Michael and Asha would be similarly intrigued that Raven, the Trickster Shaman, hums love songs to me when I’m in distress.”

“Then we find ourselves at an impasse once again.”

Lloyd nodded solemnly. “Besides, you may not have had me pegged for a sad drunkard, but you _have pegged m-_ “

Raven cut him off with a soft guffaw, and the both of them fell into a comfortable silence.

Laying in bed together, an unknown amount of time passed, and Raven’s eyes began to slip closed.

Lloyd whispered, “Thank you, Ravey.”

Sleepily, Raven raised his hand to stroke Lloyd’s hair. 

“I… I’m not gonna pretend to understand what happened to make you break down like that, but if you ever need a listening ear, anyone to talk to…”

“Ravey, I want to tell you, more than anything in the world. Just… give me time, okay?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

“Sing for me?”

“Always.

 _Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed…_ ”

Come morning, or perhaps days or weeks from now, he would spin a narrative about a lonely boy who played chess like it was his only tether to the world. He would speak of a distant father and sad mother and eventually, the theatre. Matthew. He would tell of the cult, the weeks spent running, cowering in fear, only stopping to lick his wounds, until his world toppled around him and he came so close to breaking it terrified him even now.

But that was later. For now, Lloyd drifted off to sleep, Raven singing softly to him.

He was safe. He was loved. And that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! Lmk what you think hehe ily


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